Peace with the Dead
by KnightedRogue
Summary: HL post-ROTJ AU-ish fic. We can officially call this story COMPLETE! Epilogue is up!
1. Discovery

"Peace with the Dead"

KR

* * *

The silence was incomprehensibly stifling on the bridge. No one dared to move, for fear of breaking the spell, for fear of breaking the illusion that this was a dream.

If someone spoke, it would be real.

Gradually, a crewer at the navigation station turned his head to the general. He noticed other inhabitants of the bridge shift their eyes from the viewscreen to Solo.

He stood absolutely straight, hazel eyes glued to the vid where the image had shocked them all a few seconds before. His outward appearance was nothing different than the usual: the white shirt, Bloodstripe-piped pants, spacer's boots. Blaster rig hanging from his hips, ready to be drawn. His hair was mussed (a nice change from the stiffs back in Command) but drawn back from his eyes so he could see.

And that was the frightening part, to the navigator, as he discreetly viewed the general. Solo's eyes were wide, frantic almost. Desperate. He just stood there staring at the vid, eyes never leaving the screen, never moving at all.

Gradually, Solo opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again. His eyes had ceased their endless exploration of the vidscreen and now gazed wildly around the bridge, perhaps seeing nothing. Certainly not comprehending a thing his eyes might have taken in. From his gaping mouth, one word was breathed, more an accompaniment to a thought than a vocal utterance.

_Leia._

With that one soft word, Solo managed to dispel the dream-like aura of the bridge. The navigator broke his eyes away from the general and glanced to the assistant beside him. She was shaking her head back and forth, and muttering useless prayers. Her mantra echoed the sentiments being expressed around the bridge, quietly bouncing from station to station, to dissipate in the air surrounding the still silent Solo. Some engineers near the hatch were even crying, quietly, their shoulders bobbing up and down from the effort. Solo continued to sweep his eyes across his surroundings, blind to them all, glancing past the navigator without a second thought. But when he had reached the engineering platform he stopped and watched the three crewers softly encouraging each other.

It seemed to bring the general from his stupor. He shook his head, muttered some thing to the XO, spun on his heel, and left, his footsteps echoing down the walkway where they were drowned out by the closing of the hatch.

The navigator continued to stare at the quiet chaos that raged on the bridge, his eyes roaming over countless faces in a variety of depressive states. He tried to hold back the tears as they collected on his eyelashes, tried to help his assistant form coherent words to express herself. But as he hugged her, he glanced at the vid monitor again.

On it, he saw a replay of the image that had brought them all to this state, had forced the general to take his leave. He heard the commentators of the newslink, reporting minute details and attempting to pull it all together. As they talked silently, he watched the link play itself through again and again.

An image of a petite, dark-haired woman, on a platform, passionately urging a massive group of elderly higher-ups, sprung up to encompass the screen once again. The image shook, turned (presumably after hearing a sharp noise), and then returned to the empty dais. It wasn't until the idiotic recorder thought to pull the vid down did the navigator see the dark-haired woman again. She was lying on the floor, face obscured by the first step of the dais and her left arm. The recorder managed to get close enough to see the woman's blackened torso, scorched where a blaster bolt had torn through clothing and muscle, and the entirety of her still form.

It was unfathomable, but unmistakable.

Leia Organa had been shot.

The symbol of the New Republic, and of the Rebellion that preceded it, was lying on that dais, not screaming, not moving, not urging the guards to find the attacker.

She wasn't breathing at all.


	2. Shock

* * *

Somewhere in his awareness, he knew that Wedge had grabbed his arm, that Tycho had tried to block his doorway, and that Chewie was howling over his comm. But General Han Solo was so far beyond the realm of consciousness that he only remembered this room. He wasn't sure how he had left the bridge, how he had traveled the corridors, how he had wound up in the correct quarters. But he was here, alone, and free to -

What?

Free to do what? Take a blaster to his head? Break down and start crying uncontrollably? Scream and throw things until he felt human enough to confront somebody?

No.

Han didn't feel he had enough energy to even _think_ of doing any of those things. All he could do was sit on his bed and feel himself shake violently. Somewhere along the line, his breathing had gone haywire and he felt he could drown in his own sweat. His mind refused to let him take any logical action: comm Coruscant, see what was happening or try to get a hold of Luke.

Han was stuck in a nightmare he had never thought he'd ever have to face.

He continually saw Leia, lying face up, half-on, half-off the dais from where she had been speaking. Alone.

His mind would switch images for memory: he saw her as he had last, standing on the ramp of the _Falcon_, holding her arms over her chest and giving him a grin that slightly mirrored the one he knew he had had on his face. His mental slideshow would then alternate between old memories and newer ones; at one moment, she stood staring at him with double-buns on her head, barking out orders and calling him 'Flyboy', the next, he could see her looking out of the window late at night, hair down, shimmersilk shift floating around her. Then he was hugging her, pulling her close and burying his face in her hair, while she teased him about his mercenary image gone to dust.

But the slideshow always had the same ending: Leia, face-up on the dais.

Not breathing.

Han closed his eyes and, for the first time, let that thought occur to him.

_Leia might be dying_.

_Leia might be dead._

The shaking got worse. He threw his hands over his face, trying to block out the pain that had suddenly stabbed through his shock. He got up and started pacing, anything to ignore that last thought.

_She's gone_.

He shook his head, crossed his arms over his chest, and tried to control his shaking. His pacing continued, picking up speed, then dropping off, and he continued to ignore the pounds on the door and the noise of the comm. It started to build up: the images, the pacing, the shaking, the pounding. He could feel it rise, feel it gain strength, strength he had thought had deserted him on the bridge. It was a whirlwind of memories and torture, of blame and bliss, and he was caught in the eye of the storm. _Was she alone?_ The softness of her skin, the smell of her hair . . . _Was she in pain?_ Oh, gods, what if she had _felt _it coming? Could she have stopped it? Would she have stopped it? Her laugh, the way she looked when she was angry . . . Why wasn't he there? Did she blame him? _Could he have stopped it from happening?_

He screamed.

He didn't know he was doing it until it had left his mouth and had reciprocated around his quarters, bouncing from edge to edge until he thought he'd go crazy just listening to it. When the sound had dissipated into the overwhelming silence of the room, he collapsed onto the floor and put his head in his hands.

_I got nowhere to go._

He grabbed his hair and shook his head. _It didn't hurt her, she's fine._ His reassuring thoughts to himself didn't serve their purpose at all, and he found himself thinking of how she would have felt._ She didn't scream_. She just watched it happen, _let_ it happen. She was a passive observer to her own death – _no! Not death. She isn't dead!_ – and didn't see it happening. _Or did she? _Does she know who shot her? Did she know who killed her? - _She's not dead!_

I'll never see her again, Han thought. I'll never hear her voice, see her smile again. How's that possible? This isn't real! It can't be real. This doesn't happen to us . . .

But it did. It happened. Leia's dead – _but what if she's not?_ – and I'm alone. All alone.

. . . Never feel her put her arms around me, never wake up with her lying so close I could touch her face . . . Never fight with her again, hear her accuse me of being overprotective, see her roll her eyes . . . Never hold her, kiss her, tell her that I love her – _she knew, right?_ This isn't right! This is wrong. It doesn't end this way, it can't . . .

Han felt himself being pulled onto his bed, stumbling over to a softer spot than the floor – _Chewie musta hotwired the panel_. He felt hairy arms come out of nowhere, settle on his shoulders, and heard a soft growl of sorrow.

Chewie was the last straw. He couldn't take it anymore. As he lay back onto the pillows, he curled his feet up and watched the room spin, then blur, then fade until the lights had completely gone out.


	3. Duty Calls

**Thank you all for your wonderful comments! I love 'em!**

**Owphoenix: **Thanks! Here you go!

**PrincessDaisy2: **I know. Even I think it's sad! More for you!

**GreatOne: **Really? Leia can't die? Oh – well, now I'm off to change the story . . . ;-)

**Liz: **Look! I didn't! Thanks for coming!

**Pitdroid: **I know, I know. Me, too! I usually _hate _reading these kind of stories!

**Edgar: **Why, thank you! You know, for a SW-atheist, you seem to be hanging around the SW section of ff.n and the JC boards a lot lately . . . ha, ha, ha.

**A person: **Nuisance! Nuisance! Nuisance! You can be quite annoying, you know? Quit staring at me. I'm not writing fanfic, I'm, ah . . .

For the record, Edgar and A person happen to be the same person, and that would be my roommate. She's annoying, but worked pretty hard to find this fic, so, props to my idiotic roommate! Yay! You think I'm kidding!

Clears throat Okay, enough rambling. On with the show!

* * *

**Wedge Antilles glanced** around the mess hall as he shoved a ration bar into his mouth. Wincing slightly from the bland taste of his lunch, he scraped the last bit down and longed for his whiskey supply stashed away in his quarters. _Can't_, he reminded himself. _Gotta make appearances. Show 'em what to do._

The small fleet preparing on the border of the Corporate Sector was restless and uneasy, and was in desperate need of leadership and morale. Since the news three days ago, everyone felt melancholy, even if they didn't show it, and seemed unusually prone to infighting. In some cases, Wedge could put it down to grief over the loss of the Republic's Alderaanian spitfire Jedi, and he'd had some sense of genuine emptiness among the crew over the past couple of days. But he bet Leia Organa's death wasn't enough to push the crew as much as it was being pushed emotionally.

The problems rained down from Command.

Wedge could feel for his friend. Han was a tough guy, but even the strongest men in the galaxy suffered sometimes. Wedge wasn't unsympathetic to the loss Han must be feeling, and was sure he would be doing no more than what Solo had accomplished since the news came in, were he in the same situation.

But Wedge wasn't a general.

Han had responsibilities to his crew, his subordinates. The welfare of this mission was most definitely in his hands, and his alone, and the lives of the men and women serving under him were certainly up in the air right now. If Han didn't return to command, and with confidence and strength, Wedge had serious doubts that success could even be achieved.

_Traitor!_ Wedge shook his head, embarrassed at catching himself in such a moment of morbidity. What one part of his mind acknowledged as reality, the other found resentful and subordinate.

Wedge was interrupted from his reverie by Tycho Celchu. "Wedge?"

"Yeah. I know, I know." Wedge stood up and tossed his wrappers away. "I'm going." He started toward the hatch, then paused and turned toward Tycho with a grin. "Hey, I don't know how long this'll take. Could ya make sure our children get to bed at a decent hour tonight?"

Tycho nodded, and Wedge was out the door. Walking with more assurance that he felt, he strolled up the corridors towards the command wing, past guards and busy techs. He continued up until he came to a non-descript hatch, bordered on the right by what he assumed used to be a keypad and on the left by a massive Wookiee.

"Hey'a Chewie," he said, nonchalantly leaning against the doorframe. "How's it going?"

Chewie rumbled something incoherent and moved towards the keypad. The hatch opened and Wedge stepped inside, hearing the hatch seal itself again behind him.

Wedge found himself reluctant to step further into the quarters, felt nervous at the prospect of confronting Han in what he knew was a most serious manner. _This is stupid_, he admonished himself. _It's _Han, _for Force's sake!_

"Wedge, what the hell are you doing?"

Wedge shook his head. "What?"

"You walk into my quarters and just stand there? You're becoming as brainless as Janson." Wedge had yet to see a corporeal anything, but he thought he could find the voice's origin. He stepped into the small room, and continued past the bunk and glanced down to the floor. Solo lay with his back against the bunk, sitting on the floor, legs sprawled out. _No bottles around. That's a good sign._

"How'd you know it was me?"

"Told Chewie not to let anyone in 'cept you. Figured I'd rather get the command speech from you rather than Drahyod or some other idiot."

Wedge swallowed a lump in his throat. "Hey, look, I know – "

"Shut it, Antilles. I know what you're gonna say. And it doesn't matter."

Wedge lowered himself down to the floor and sat opposite Solo. Han seemed tense, but relatively pulled together. Wedge had expected a wampa with a hangover. Interesting.

"What was I gonna say?"

"Wedge, I hung out with you too long during the Rebellion. You don't just come over for social chats and a drink."

Wedge chuckled. "Nah, Hobbie's always been the socialite of the Rogues."

Han turned his head for the first time towards him, made eye contact. His eyes looked tired, worn out, but other than that, he seemed normal. "You wanna know what I'm doing with Meridian, right?"

"Crossed my mind, yeah."

"Mission's gotta be done. What else is there to say?"

"You're leading?"

Han snorted. "Who else can do it? I don't trust any of you with anything this important." He grimaced. "'Sides, I can't have any more blood on my hands."

_Any more?_ "You don't have to do this, Han. No one'd blame you for delaying the mission for a couple of days."

"We're here. We're ready. Might as well." Han closed his eyes. "Go out in a blaze of glory."

Wedge started. "Han, you're not – "

"What? No! Are you kiddin'? I meant my career. I could care less whether or not I _die_ in a blaze of glory."

_I don't think you care about much right now_. "You're resigning?"

Han gave a half-hearted chuckle. "I hate the uniform and you Rogues make me feel old. Time to leave."

Wedge nodded. A quiet descended on the two, awkward stillness penetrating a seemingly simple conversation. _I can't force him to talk to me. Would I even want to listen if he _did _start talking?_

"Look, Wedge, much as I'd love to continue this wonderful discussion, we got a big day tomorrow. Could'ya make sure Chewie goes to his own quarters tonight? I think he's been sleeping by the hatch whole time."

Wedge rose up from the floor. "Yeah, sure." He watched as Han dropped his head into his hands and continued to stare at the floor. "Uh, Han?"

"Don't," he growled.

_I'm in this deep . . _. "Han, I'm sorry. She's, uh, was a – "

"Wedge, nothin' you can do or say right now will be any different than what I've been tellin' myself."

Wedge felt himself lower his head, silently accepting defeat. "Just, if you need someone – "

Han shook his head. "Later, Wedge."

Wedge stood by the bunk for a few seconds, staring at the crumpled shape of Solo and trying to develop a better verbal finesse. When his brain steadfastly refused to cooperate, he turned and walked to the hatch and left Solo in the environment his surname naturally projected. He reiterated Han's orders to Chewie, which was promptly forgotten as the Wookiee sat down next to the hatch and mumbled a goodbye to Wedge, and continued down the corridors towards his own bunk.

After all, they had a big day tomorrow.


	4. Meeting Luke

**Thanks everyone! Reviews are awesome!**

**Liz: **Thanks!

**GreatOne: **I depress you? Yay! ;-)

**Audreidi: **blushes Okay, maybe I'm not as original as you think I am. Thanks for your comment anyway!

**Starsmart247: **Ah, our Jedi Master comes into the mix today!

**Owphoenix: **YES!

**StonedRose**: Another depression? I'm on a roll with this, huh?

**Quick Comments **

**Some things have been changed from the original EU canon. Yes, I know, Kam wasn't around until _after_ Han and Leia were married, and _know_ the Hapans aren't a part of the Republic before _that _book. This is COPL time-period-ish, with a few changes . Leia should've been a Jedi, don't'cha think? ;-)**

* * *

**Han Solo blew** out his breath in one large exhalation. "That's it, Chewie. Done."

Chewie growled the affirmation from the vicinity of the dorsal turret, echoing the sentiment down through the empty corridors and through the hatch to the cockpit, where Han slumped down into the captain's chair. In all honesty, Meridian seemed to be the last in a long series of experiences that left him tired and worn out. The Imperial insurgency that had ruptured the delicate political alliances between the Meridian factions was gone – dissembled and without command due to the Wraith's unique ability to bring instant destruction onto anything that moved, and most things that didn't – and his last mission was complete.

Han let his head fall forward towards his chest. _I gotta figure out where I'm going_. He'd told Wedge that Meridian was his last mission, and he wasn't about to be roped into another one. He'd left his 2iC explicit instructions – what to do, where to go – and felt that the group could handle the return trip to Coruscant.

He, however, could not.

Han Solo had never considered himself a coward. He'd spent most of his life on the run, dodging death just one more time, racing across the galaxy for the next job, getting himself into, and out of, trouble. Through those times of heart-racing adventure and long periods of space travel, he'd never run away from his problems. He'd faced the scum of the galaxy – bounty hunters, crime lords and Imperials – without flinching and keeping his cocky grin screwed up to one side.

So why was it that Han found himself so scared to punch in the coordinates to Coruscant? He'd been out of touch without any particular orders – comm silence was mandatory for this type of classified mission – for months. He'd not bothered to watch the eulogies and mourning parades he could imagine occurring on the galactic capital. _I don't think I could stand watching that. _That left him without the Republic, without superiors (not that he'd mind _that _much) and without alliance to anyone.

Except Luke.

_Damn._ _The kid'll be depressed. _

Somewhere in the back of his mind, his conscience chimed in with the logic. _You can't just leave him alone_. _He's lost his sister. _

_I've lost a lot more._

_Yeah, but you won't abandon him. He's a friend. Almost a brother. _

Han sighed. This mental war was getting annoying. He was tired of thinking, of _feeling_. He just wanted it to stop.

Chewie ambled into the cockpit and threw himself into the copilot's chair. After double-checking the instruments, and sneaking what he obviously considered a disguised glance at the navicomputer, he swiveled his chair and sat looking at Han.

"What're you lookin' at?"

Chewie growled.

"I've worked it all out with Culiad. He's takin' 'em back."

Roar.

"Coruscant. Where else?"

Chewie shook his head and turned back to the viewport. They sat in silence for a while, one studying the last flight group of X-wings as they docked onto the Star Destroyer, the other resolutely avoiding the sight. Finally Chewie softly growled again.

"I dunno. Kashyyyk, maybe?"

Chewie gave a series of grunts.

"Okay, just a thought. Thought you'd want to – "He dropped the pathetic line, knowing his best friend would easily see through the façade. "Look, we're close to Yavin Four. Do ya think – " He was interrupted by a loud roar and a fiercely concurrent expression on his copilot's face. "Guess so. Will you go to the _Avenger_ and tell Culiad that he's good to go? I don't wanna use the comm and bring every nearby Imp ship to our door. Thanks pal."

Chewie left, and Han was left to gaze out the viewport alone. _Yavin Four. _He sighed.

_Next thing on the to-do list: blow the conscience to spacedust._

* * *

**"We have gathered** together today to give peace to a momentous woman; the dazzling light of the Rebellion and perfection of leadership and diplomacy. We mourn the loss of a gentle hero, of an ethical and compassionate leader. The hole we feel now . . . "

_Gentle?_ Luke Skywalker thought bitterly. _What coma was Leia in when you met her?_

" . . . great things from her. She was the catalyst to many great movements and would have done a great many more had she been allowed a few more years. My son and I have come to grieve the passing of an ideal . . . "

_Who are you kidding?_ Luke sighed and reached for the vidscreen controller. _You came to take advantage of a political situation._ He spared one more glance at the screen, at the polite and encouraging smiles of the Hapan Queen and her son - _How many hours does the guy spend on his hair each morning? _– and shut it off. These constant sojourners to Coruscant, and to the holonet, were becoming annoying and distracting. He had students to teach, philosophy to study. He didn't need to hear these false words, laden with promises of diplomatic liaisons and fruitful alliances, constantly. He'd seen all this before.

Luke shrugged on his outer robe, determined to control his negative emotions, to pursue the peace he needed in order to instruct. _It's becoming difficult._ His thoughts constantly returned to images, snatches of commentary, and he found himself delving deep into his memories . . .

_She would hate to hear that garbage_. _It's a good thing she can't; she'd go ballistic. _Worry burrowed into his stomach and condensed into a hard mass that couldn't be ignored . . . stop, It wouldn't help her now, anyway.

Luke shook his head and stretched out with the Force. Instantly, he found what he searched for and his peace returned, compounded with an ease to the mass in his stomach. _This is how I should feel, act, behave. This is how they expect me to appear._

Luke turned toward the door of his quarters, ready to depart and head to the Temple, where his students would assemble in an hour. As he walked toward it, his eye caught a red light flashing on the comm. He stopped and studied the datapad connected to it. The datapad was displaying a series of figures and symbols, an encrypted message coming in from a _very_ familiar source.

Glancing at the chrono, Luke bent down and picked up the pad, returned to his chair and contemplated its contents. He'd been expecting such a contact, but he was unsure why it had come in that form. _The _Falcon_ has a regular comm. Why would Han need to encrypt . . . _Luke remembered with startling clarity. _Oh, Han. _

The message, entailing the inevitable visit, merely gave a time frame, a request not to contact as the group was under silence, and a signature of Rybtl Sul, an alias Han has used successfully in the past. _At least he's cognizant enough to be careful_. Luke quickly checked the ETA and erased it, then stood up and headed toward the door again. He had approximately three hours until Han Solo touched down on Yavin Four, and as much as Luke would like to plan out his words to his friend, he knew his responsibilities prevented him from seriously considering it.

_Training first. _Luke left his quarters, strolling down the hallways toward his classes. _It is gonna be one _very_ long day. _

_Very long, indeed._

* * *

**As the **_**Falcon** _touched down onto the landing platform, Luke smiled under his hood. The freighter looked as beat-up and terrible as, and possibly even more than, the first time Luke had seen it. _It's still a piece of junk._ _It's good to know that some things don't change_. He watched as the ramp extended and the first half of the crew descended. Chewie looked as miserable as Luke had ever seen him. The Wookiee hurried off the ramp and grabbed Luke as he made soft noises of consolation.

"Hey, Chewie," Luke tried to pull out of the embrace and finally managed release after his asphyxiation forced the hug to end. He nodded to his friend. "Thanks."

"Hey, kid."

The comment seemed so innocuous and typical that Luke almost managed to smile at the form walking down the ramp. He took the time to assess how Han actually looked. _Not too great, to be honest. _With hair blown all over the place, spacer's outfit wrinkled and obviously lived-in, and the saunter absent from his walk, Han Solo looked tired and haggard. _His eyes are the worst, though. _

"Han, ol' buddy. How're you doing?" _Might as well venture a question, right?_

"Wonderful. This place looks worse than it did the last time I was here."

Luke rolled his eyes but secretly cheered. This was at least familiar behavior. "Still looks better than your ship."

The ordinary insults done, the two men and Wookiee just stood there, staring at each other. Each seemed to feel any comment about _it_ would be disastrous, and each hoped one of the other two would bring it up, air it out. _Since when did we become so awkward around each other?_

Unable to take this obvious discomfiture, and eager to lighten up the eyes of the captain, Luke swallowed and invited his two old friends into his quarters. At least there he could talk to the two of them. As the trio reached the small sequester of rooms, Luke could feel the absurdity growing. _We're all friends here! Why're we so uptight?_

Opening the door, and letting his visitors into his rooms, he glanced around the stoned hallway leading up and down the dormitory. No one was nearby. That was the only fear here. He'd swept for intrusion devices this morning and with the protection of the stone walls, the odds of overhearing anything was so remote that even Han couldn't face them. He chuckled with the thought, then stabbed the door control and faced his companions.

"Do you want anything to drink? I don't have much, but I think – "

"No."

Luke stared at the Corellian as he looked around the quarters. He was gazing at everything except Luke, and it was driving him crazy.

"I've cancelled classes today. Kam has the students practicing in the Great Hall. Figured you'd like to talk."

"You know what this is about, Luke." Han's voice was nearly a whisper. He was hunched down on a chair, head in his hands. "Don't try to cover this up as a social visit or anything."

"Yeah. You're right." _What do you say? How do you express this?_ "Hey, look, Han. You need to know something."

"What, kid? What do I have to know?"

Luke shook his head. This was going to be more difficult than he'd originally imagined. "Um, we've . . . I know what you're going through, and – "

"Do you, Luke? Really?"

_Stubborn, bone-headed . . . _"Maybe not _exactly_, but I have an idea."

Luke glanced at Chewie, hoping he might have some inspiration to give to him. _No such luck._ He turned back to Han.

"Han, I think that you'd better – "

"What? I'd better what? Go back to Coruscant? Beg to keep my commission? Fight for a Republic that doesn't mean anything anymore? What, Luke? If you got a better idea, lemme know, cause I have no clue what to do! None!" Han's stare, now free of his hands, pointed daggers at Luke. "I have questions for you, though. Stuff I'd like to know."

"What, Han?"

"She was a Jedi Knight. She shoulda felt it comin', right? Why didn't she? Huh?"

"Han – "

"Was she not strong enough? Was she distracted? _Did the Force not feel like warning her that day?_ What?"

"You don't know – "

"No, _you_ don't know." He sighed. "Luke, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come here. I thought maybe somethin' would happen, you know? That I could help you. Be a friend. It was a stupid idea. You obviously look _fine_." He stood up, wiped his palms on his pants and nodded to Chewie.

"Bad idea. Was a stupid idea. Come on, Chewie. Let's go."

As Han rounded the corner of the room and was about to slap the door control, Luke came up behind him. "Han, you need to stop."

Han reached for the pad. "Kid, I told ya, I gotta go. You don't need this – "

Luke interposed himself between the Han and the door. "No, _you need to stop_. Now." Luke nodded his chin toward the chairs again. "Sit down."

"Move – "

"Han, listen to me. You need to calm down before you bring someone around with your yelling. They can't hear us."

"Wha – "

"No one can hear what I'm going to tell you, alright?"

Han shuffled his feet nervously. "Kid – "

Luke whispered something.

"What did'ja say?"

Luke lowered his voice again.

"I said, Leia's _alive_."

* * *

_For the benefit of my readers, I'll let you know what my ingenious friend suggested I do with this story. She says that Leia should really die and Han should get really depressed and become a used-car salesman._

_Don't worry – that is **not** a threat!!_


	5. Revelations

_**Thanks reviewers! You make my day!**_

**_Thanks to Meg for beta-ing this. Next time I'll include Han's magic hand-gripping and Luke's one assembling student. That should work well, don't you think?_**

**Owphoenix: **You're welcome! Thanks for reading!

**StonedRose:** Look – I did! I'm so nice!

I'm going to ignore **your roommate's **comments . . . ;-)

**Dragon Girl Revlis: **Oh – I get sucked into angst so easily. I think its LadyPadme's stories that do that to me the most. I'm glad I got you into this one – thanks for reading!

**PrincessDaisy2:** You are the insanity behind "Rags to Riches", correct? I'm sorry if I'm depressing you, even in a good way, he he! Thanks!

**Anonymous: **I noticed that and changed it. The beginning of a new POV or scene will start with a "bold" phrase. Thanks for the input!

**GreatOne: **Perhaps I'm not as ingenious as you hope. No Luke-blasting today! (Although I could have Han go back to the events in ANH and have to change it all to prevent Leia's problems . . . j/k. I love "Kaleidoscope of Illusions". So great!) Thanks for reading!

**Kristin: **That's my big worry – uncharacteristic characters. I'm glad you think I've done okay! Thanks for reading!

* * *

"**I said, Leia's** _alive_."

Han didn't miss a beat. "Stop it."

Luke blinked. "Stop what?"

_My hands are dirty . . . _"Cut it out, Luke. This isn't fair and you know it." Han shook his head and moved towards the door again. Once again, Luke caught him.

"She has this mission and – "

Han's head snapped back to Luke, hazel eyes widening. He backed off, stepping backwards and into Chewie's chest, then sidestepped and continued to backpedal, eyeing Luke the entire time.

"A mission?" It sounded breathy and weak even to his own ears.

"Han, let's move to the Falcon, huh? I don't know – "

"A mission?" His voiced gathered strength as he turned the phrase around in his mind. _A mission?_ He studied the words as if he'd never heard them before. _A mission? A mission?_

Luke swept past him and caught Han's arm in the process. He led Han back into the living area, Chewie following silently, probably as shocked as Han was. _A mission?_

"Han? The Falcon?" Luke's gaze shifted to Chewie and back to Han. "Come on."

Han wasn't paying attention. He was sifting through his brain, trying desperately to remember something, _anything_, that had any connection with a mission. _There's no mission._ His eyes refocused on the Jedi, who stood not five feet away, staring at Han in an almost fearful manner.

"The Falcon. Come on." It wasn't a request anymore.

Han nodded and followed Luke out the door and through the stone masonry of the Massassi temple. He stared straight ahead, not watching the stone pass into green vegetation, concentrating on the back of Luke's head, not sure if he was trying to burn a hole through it or read his mind. Han did notice that Luke took a deliberately deviating path, obscure enough to limit passersby to almost nothing. Eventually, after many minutes of strained silence, Luke came to the foot of the Falcon's ramp. He walked up, overrode the security precautions and shut the hatch behind Chewie.

He only had time for the one word. "Han – "

"A mission?" Han let his emotions fly. "A mission? What the hell are you talking about? What are you trying to do to me, huh, kid? Do you think that – "

"I didn't – "

"– kind of help? That I _need_ to believe in some kinda miracle or somethin'? Do you have any _idea_ what I've – "

"You don't – "

"– through? Huh, _kid_? You think this good for me? Thinking that she's really just waitin' for me and that things are gonna be okay? Big news, kid, but this isn't some happy ending. Things don't work out like that. You think – "Han saw the kid raise his hand and suddenly felt like his mouth had become solid duracrete. He tried to open and close it unsuccessfully, working his jaw around until he realized the futility of this exercise and stopped. He glared in the direction of the young Jedi.

Luke looked sheepish. "Han, you won't listen to me, and I'm sorry I had to do that to you, but you can be so damn stubborn. Listen, okay? That's it. If you want to jump ship and blast off to wherever _after_ you've heard what I'm going to say, that's fine. Just give me a chance." He tried a small grin. "I won't pull any more Force stuff out on you." He looked at Han for awhile as Han collected his thoughts, then nodded in agreement.

Luke tried to hide a smile as Han worked his jaw again and glared at him. "You have five minutes. Then I'm gone."

Luke breathed heavily. "Alright. You left three months ago for Meridian on a closed and classified mission detailed only to your superiors, your command, and Leia. This mission was kept under loose scrutiny, for the NR, at least, and under comm silence following a reject window. Once you were under silence, no direct lines in or out could be granted to you, except the standard feeds that have no association with the NR at all."

"The holonet," Han interjected.

"Right. Basically that means that you were cut off to everything Republic except what the public would see."

Han felt his stomach tighten. "Yeah, kid, I know. I was there."

Luke nodded. "Sorry. About two months into your mission, Leia contacted me from Coruscant, telling me she wanted to talk about the academy. I met with her here and she told me what I'm supposed to tell you: she's under sensitive intelligence orders to go on some kind of retrieval mission."

Han closed his eyes, letting the information soak in. _It can't be real. This is some kind of joke._ But why would Luke do something like that to him?

"I wouldn't," Luke answered.

"Get outta my head, Skywalker." Han continued to sit wearily at the gametable, and let his hands massage his eyes. _I can't let this get to me._ _It'll hurt worse when I find out the truth later._ But part of him rebelled against this close-minded approach. _What if she _is _alive?_

_She can't be._

But Luke said it was true.

Han let his hands fall from his face as Chewie grumbled a question to Luke.

"That was the tricky part. Leia had to be completely incognito, I guess. I don't really know what happened."

"But I saw her!" _Saw her hair sprawled on the ground, saw her stop breathing . . . _"She's dead, Luke! I saw it happen!"

"Stop yelling. Look, I can't prove anything, really, to you. She came to me _before_ the broadcast, quite a bit before. Three weeks before. They had enough time to plan it out. I don't know – "

Han's anger returned ten-fold. "I _do_ know, Luke! I _saw_ it – "

"And I would have felt it."

The gameboard suddenly became quiet. Han stared at Luke, trying to find something to say and when that didn't come, he settled for ignorance. "Huh?"

"Han, I can _feel_ Leia. I don't know where she is, but she's alive. I can find her presence. She's relying strongly upon the Force, and I sense that she's in a great deal of danger, but she's not dead. I would have felt that."

Han shoved his hands under the table to hide their trembling. Luke continued staring at him, perhaps gauging his reaction, trying to see how well Han was going to respond. He didn't have to worry about some loud verbal barrage: Han's voice seemed to have deserted him and he didn't feel he had the strength to stand if he had wanted to walk away.

When he found his voice, he was only able to stumble through one phrase. "You sure?"

Luke's eyebrows lifted and a lopsided grin appeared. "Yep."

Han closed his eyes, entertaining Luke's preposterous assertion. _If she's alive, she's coming home._ He latched onto that thought, mentally gripping it convulsively. _Home. To me. _Images flashed, scenarios built up from dead hopes and futures buried. _If I get her back . . . _He left the single thought unfinished and let the possibilities run rampant in his brain.

As Han sat with his hands beneath the table and thinking, he noticed a slight shift in the immediate atmosphere. His eyes flew up and he glanced at Chewie, whose eyes twinkled in happy euphoria. He next turned his gaze to the Jedi, ready to verbally acknowledge what he'd been thinking, what he'd decided to hope for. Luke's face was set in a youthful, boyish smile that Han hadn't seen in years. _Not since the kid started discovering missing relatives._ His blue eyes sparkled much in the same manner that Chewie's did, and Han had the brief glimpse of farmboy excitement that had died with the first Death Star.

It was infectious.

_Leia's alive. I have no idea what's goin' on, but it doesn't matter. _

_It doesn't matter at all. _


	6. Answers

**GreatOne: **Well, I certainly don't wish to out-do the great LadyPadme, do I? And, yes – I am eternally grateful that I may delay a possible viewing by the amazing pyromaniac herself. Thanks for the laughing break, GreatOne – I needed it!

**Dm1: **Welcome! Leia really isn't around to defend her actions, now, is she? She **must **have a good reason for doing it, right? Thanks for reading, dm1! I'm glad it's getting interesting . . .

**Sweetdeath04: **Welcome to PwtD! On a side note: what does your name mean? Just curious.

**SailorLeia: **Wow! I made you start writing your fics again? I feel so important now! Welcome! And I'm sending you some sleeping pills through the mail; they should come within the week. He he!

Thanks for your reviews guys! I seem to have lost some readers along the way . . . if Darth Real Life is the culprit, I completely understand – review when you can. If you are just being shy, come and join us! We're fun, I promise!

* * *

_R**unning. Breathing. Want **to stop. Can't stop. What am I going to do?_

_Okay, there. That's where I'm going. Er . . . ignore it – keep going. They'll be there. Go!_

_This is not happening! Stupid, idiotic – _

_Go!_

_What . . . ? **What?! **How could they – _

Luke jerked awake, eyes snapping open and hands rushing out towards his forehead. His breathing was ragged, punctured by images lost to him, words (_thoughts?_) half-spoken, mostly unheard, questions unasked, begging for answers. He tried to calm himself, adjust his racing heart to a normal rhythm, but it wouldn't obey. He lowered his hands and gripped the bedclothes huddled somewhere in the vicinity of his knees and closed his eyes, trying to make sense of his physiological state.

_Go – _

He opened his eyes again, blinking rapidly, trying to erase the thought that he knew was creeping on him. As he had done so many times in the past five days, Luke stretched out with the Force, searching for the connection, the tenuous hold that made him believe his mind and not his eyes or ears. He felt her signature, that blessed sense of fierce independence and self-reliance that characterized his twin, felt her concentrate on one command –

And then disappear.

* * *

**Han's eyebrows rose** as he appeared to comprehend Luke's words. If he wasn't so frantic with worry, Luke might have laughed at the absurd expression on his friend's face.

"Okay, kid, spell it out for us non-Jedi types. What're you saying?"

Luke took a deep breath. "I'm saying I can't feel Leia anymore. No! No – she's not dead," he added when he saw the stricken look on Han's face. "I would have felt that." _I think. I would have felt that, right?_ "She's not dead. She's just . . . uh, gone."

"_Gone_? Like you lost her or something?"

"Uh, well, yeah. Kinda. It's complicated."

Han rolled his eyes. "What else is new?" He wiped a hand across his eyes. "Where is she?"

"I don't know."

"What's she doing?"

"She never told me, Han."

"Is she hurt?"

"I can't tell – "

"What _can_ you tell me?"

Luke sighed. He should have known this wasn't going to easy. _Like dealing with Han Solo ever is_. "She was running, I think. Away from something. Or someone. She found something and then . . . she just kinda, uh, left."

Han's stare was almost menacing. "Way to be specific, kid."

"Look, I'm trying real hard to make sense of all this, and I just don't know!" Luke's eyes momentarily closed and he took a deep breath. _Good job with the whole calm Jedi Master thing there, Luke. _"Even before we found out some things, I had this feeling that Leia was always around. I felt her all the time. I knew when she was nearby, when she was happy, or –"he glanced significantly at Han, "when she was mad or upset."

Han grinned innocently, a shadow of a patented look. "What?"

Luke felt a lightening in his chest. "Whatever. I knew how she was. All the time."

"Like a weird tracking device thing."

"Yeah. Kinda. Last night, I felt her. I _saw _her. And then I didn't. She just disappeared out of thin air. No pain or shock or anything. Just gone."

Han sighed audibly, and sat down onto a nearby console. "So, what does that mean?"

"I don't know. But I know that I'm going crazy not knowing what's happening. Where she is, at least." Luke looked hopefully at Han. "The way I figure it, we've got a right to know what's going on. I'm a close relative, and you – "he dropped off.

"I'm me," Han finished.

Luke smirked. "Right." _I'm glad I didn't have to finish that sentence. I'm not even going to think about what he considers himself._ "But you're still a general, right? You didn't resign your commission?"

Han frowned. "Guess not. I never actually said that I was, at least. But I wasn't gonna go anywhere near Coruscant again anytime soon."

"Hey, sometimes the best of us break our promises."

"Don't get me started. What about the Praxeum? Won't your kids notice when their high-and-mighty Jedi guy up and leaves them?"

"Kam's more than capable of teaching for a week or two. They'll be fine."

"You sure?"

Luke grinned at the last time Han had said those words._ Circumstances have changed._ "Yep."

"Alright. Lemme go find Chewie and we'll be outta here faster than you can say 'Coruscant'.

_Coruscant,_ Luke thought, _you better have some answers for me._

* * *

"**I'm sorry, sir, **but I really can't let you – "

Han allowed his voice to cool by several degrees. "You're not gonna _let_ me? Who says?"

Luke tried to intervene. "Han – Sir, I'm sorry. But it's really important that we see Mon Mothma immediately."

"You don't have access – "

"You think that's gonna stop me? Look, hero-guy, I'm gonna talk to her whether you like it or not, so make it all easier on everyone around, and let us through."

"Sir, you don't have an appointment!"

"An appointment? An appointment! You better believe I have an appointment, buddy. Seven days ago, I made an appointment to meet with this woman. You know what happened seven days ago?"

"The princess' death, sir."

"Yeah. I've got some things to sort out with her presidential-ness about security around here – "

"Margeth, please allow these gentlemen in. They do indeed need to see me."

The voice floated almost lazily from the speaker at the aide's desk to where Han was verbally sparring with the security guard stationed outside the Presidential office of the New Republic. Luke stood a few paces behind Han, ready to give backup if the guard took offense to what Han was accusing.

Fortunately the guard did nothing but squint his eyes at Han and shuffled to the left to allow access.

"_Thank _you," Han said. The sarcasm was dripping into a puddle on the floor. He pushed past the guard and through the opened hatch, Luke close behind his heels.

The outer section of the offices was furnished in a typical Chandrilan style, soft blues and greens accentuating the prevalent water theme. The offices were circular apparently; they stood in an outside parameter, lined by understated art pieces depicting ocean scenes in stark detail as opposed to the flowing mixture of color. Han felt decidedly uncomfortable, not in the least because he tended to hate waiting.

"Nice yelling, Han," Luke said from his right elbow. He had turned and was examining a holo of an ocean sunset. "I'm sure everyone in Imperial City heard you."

"Hey, you said to be convincing. I was convincing."

"You didn't have to insult the guard."

"I _didn't _insult him – "

The inner door swiveled open, halting Han's retort immediately. They stepped through the door, Han still at point, Luke covering, and entered the office.

Han's gaze turned immediately down to the far end of the office where sat the president and chief-of-state of the New Republic, almost-smiling gently at her two visitors.

She gestured to two chairs in front of her desk and said, "Welcome. Please sit."

When she had dispensed with the pleasantries, Mon Mothma leaned back in her chair and appraised Luke and Han with a trained diplomat's eye.

"I'm assuming that you are here to discuss Leia's recent activities? Your presence here, both of you, implies to me that you've discussed, and discovered, our secret. And, by the look on your faces, it seems you wish to inquire as to the particulars. Am I correct?"

Han shook his head in private amusement. _They must teach unnatural perception at politician school._ "Yes."

"Doubtless you saw the holorecording. I must apologize; had the timing worked to our benefit, Meridian would have been finished before the ruse was necessary. And I assure you that it _was _necessary – you know that Leia would never have agreed to such a distraction had it not been absolutely clear that she needed to be out of the public eye."

Luke took a much more diplomatic view to the whole situation than Han did. "We assumed as much. But we need much more than particulars, Madam President. We have some information for you, too."

One manicured eyebrow lifted. "And that would be?"

"I can't detect Leia's Force signature at all. She's practically disappeared from my senses." Luke gazed at the president's face, noting her small smile slip down at the revelation. Her eyes suddenly lost focus and she slumped a bit into her seat. It was, in fact, the first show of emotion that he'd seen from her throughout their meeting.

"She's not – "

"No, ma'am. Leia is not dead," Luke interrupted. "She is just invisible to me right now."

"I see." Eyes wide and searching her desktop, Mon Mothma looked like she was collecting her thoughts. "How is this possible?"

"I'm not sure. It has to be something at her end. I can sense everything else around me."

Mon Mothma shifted in her seat, and rested her gaze on the two men. After several seconds of silence, she spoke again. This was a statement: "You wish to rescue her."

Han and Luke glanced at each other, and Han had the distinct impression that the chief was chastising him. "Now, wait a second – "

"I am not telling you that what you desire to do is _wrong, _General Solo, but what you wish to do sacrifices all our work. All Leia's work."

Luke, probably sensing what Han intended to say regarding that comment, interposed himself between the president and Han's ire. "Are you then willing to sacrifice Leia as well?"

"No. But the circumstances of her mission are tenacious. It was an ambitious and ambiguous mission in the first place, and to attempt a rescue might shatter every parameter and careful measure we've established."

"So you're just gonna – "

"I am not going to do what you think I am, General. Leia is a valuable asset, a Jedi with the mind of a diplomat. Her qualifications for rescue are the same as those we needed for the mission to begin with."

_That's _all_ she is to you? A Jedi with the mind of a diplomat?_

Mon Mothma continued, innocent to Han's inner commentary. "Her rescue, if you believe it to be required, should not be put in the hands of her brother and – "

_Go ahead. Try it, _Han thought with amusement._ Maybe you'll do better than Luke did._

"- well, her close relations." _Nope, no better._ "This should be handled by another who is not so close to the situation, who is not prone to sacrifice reason for emotion. Perhaps Madine would be willing – "

Han interjected immediately. "No. I'm going. I just need some answers."

She stared at him, and then nodded. "Very well. I assumed as much."

She took a deep breath and then plunged in headfirst. "About six months ago, an encrypted communiqué was received by Intelligence from an Imperial general. General Hovett has been blockading the planet of Anselm for over a year now. His communiqué hinted at a possible cease fire if he was granted absolute political immunity upon his return to Coruscant."

Mon Mothma stood up and began to pace. "From what Intelligence has told me, Hovett has a ruthless political and military background, leading us to suspect that he has another agenda. His communiqué told us that he expected a New Republic dignitary three days ago to meet and discuss possible contracts." She stopped pacing and turned to face Han and Luke. "Knowing what we do about him, we suspected a trap of some sort. Naturally we tried to research both Anselm and Hovett's military capabilities, but both entries are rather brief or outdated."

"In other words, you have no idea of the planet's terrain or the size of the force blockading it," Luke added in disbelief.

"Precisely. There was no way to properly anticipate what our ambassador would face. We needed either a fighter who could be diplomatic or a politician that knew how to defend herself. Leia fit the specifications."

"She volunteered, you mean." Han's eyes closed against his certainty.

"After we let her in on the intelligence, yes. The clearance to view this information was above hers. She didn't know anything about the communiqué until about a month ago, when she came to talk to you on Yavin Four, Master Skywalker."

There was an over-arching sense of unreality in the office following this announcement. Mon Mothma was standing behind her desk, watching the emotions flit over her visitors' faces and Luke looked like he was trying not to scream.

Han wasn't the least bit concerned about his emotional display. "It was a dead drop, a blind jump. You just let her go, without any resources, no backup, nothing?"

"I assure you, General Solo, Leia was ready. She is more than capable of handling both sides to this mission, and she has my every confidence that she can carry it out if Hovett's intentions are indeed honest."

"Obviously something went wrong. Luke can't feel her."

"Yes. That is disconcerting. I will continue to back my opinions on the matter, however. If anyone is capable of completing this mission and freeing Anselm, it is Leia." Her eyes narrowed at Luke. "You are absolutely certain that she is in danger?"

"Yes." _A small lie – Luke isn't sure of anything more than I am._

"And you feel that a rescue is needed?"

"Absolutely."

She continued to switch gazes, from Luke to Han and back to Luke, until she sighed. "I suppose I would be incapable of preventing such a measure anyway. You two tend to do whatever you feel is necessary. I will warn you, however, that I cannot give you any resources, either. It cannot be a Republic-sanctioned rescue. Should Hovett's honesty be true, you would be considered vigilantes against the Republic and its peaceful acceptance of Imperials."

"Not to worry, Chief. I have a feeling that that is the least of our worries."

* * *

So, if you made it this far, all you have to do is click this pretty button below that says review . . .


	7. Here I Am to Save the Day!

**Sweetdeath04: **You spent much more brainpower coming up with your name than mine, you know? I went, "I like Jedi and I dig the Rogues." That was the extent of my contemplations. And thanks for your mush support - I tried it! Thanks!

**MissE: **Thanks for the review! I took your suggestion to heart - hope you see the Solo cockiness now!

**Pitdroid: **You get a couple of hints in this post. Thanks!

**SailorLeia: **Mon Mothma makes a great villian in some cases. I should be careful, though, regarding the 'villian' word; she's not actually one here, just a politician. I know, I know, I hate 'em, too ;) Thanks!

**Culf: **Han and Leia are a package deal, in my opinion. And I couldn't really separate them, I don't think. Okay, that was a very hypocritical statement . . . ;) Thanks for reviewing, and welcome to PwtD!

**Starrunner: **A familiar face, er, name. Thanks! I know - the Leia-cide gets annoying. This is not an anyone-cide story, I guarantee it!

**Thanks to all of my reviewers! It means a lot to get feedback, both good and bad! Thanks! **

**And now, without further ado, may I present the amazing Princess herself . . . **

* * *

_**Han's going to kill me.**_

It was the thought that kept bouncing around Leia Organa's head since the beginning of this stupid mission and truly since she first agreed to it, if she was feeling honest with herself. It dominated her thoughts now. Sitting cross-legged on the floor of some dry stone building she had inhabited for the better part of a day and a half, she was trying valiantly to meditate, and, finding it difficult to pursue any form of mental peace, gave up the effort nearly as soon as it was begun.

Some of it probably stemmed from her current situation, her imprisonment, and her disappointment, both in herself and in the New Republic, but Leia knew that the root of her mental inconsistency lay with her guilt.

When she had initially agreed to the Anselm mission, she had been assured that the Meridian campaign, Han's campaign, would be complete and he would be informed of her escape. As it stood at the time she had departed Coruscant in a flurry of product transports for GansCorp, Han was still active and fighting.

And under comm silence.

She continued to turn the experience around in her mind, twisting and contorting it to view it from all possible angles. She had thought about it in the week or so before her escape, trying to imagine how it would affect him. She had imagined hurt, loss, pain. Most certainly anger. Definite sadness. When she had been speaking to the Second Party Senators, she had kept Han in the back of her mind, hoping she could find some way to communicate to him, and only him, through public channels. Before the "blaster shot" had hit her, her last organized thought had been of him and his reaction.

She had been completely unprepared. For, in that split second between the blast and the application of the sedative, she had_ felt_ him. Shocked. Tortured. His presence seemed confused and hopeless, not angry as she had theorized. His was an intense, true pain, similar to what Leia had experienced in Cloud City.

Similar, but not exact.

She had a fleeting impression of regret: extreme regret and self-revulsion for a multitude of tiny, insignificant details she had forgotten and forgiven years ago. Nuances that she found endearing, quirks she loved, but would never admit loving. Memories so vivid and _real _that she almost lamented her own death.

She saw herself through his mind in a fraction of a heartbeat, saw herself as he saw her. Caught a glimpse of beloved features so etched into his brain that he could bring them up at a moment's notice.

And in that split second before hitting the ground and succumbing to the sedative and its catatonic properties, she knew she had made a mistake.

_I screwed up, and now Han is . . . _

Well, she didn't know exactly. Leia had been in semi-contact with Luke up until she had met with Hovett. She had been aware of his emotions and dimly conscious of Han's presence. The sheer magnitude of the space between them was affecting how well she could sense either, and even if she had wanted to get a definite location on Han, she couldn't have.

And now that semi-contact was lost to her, abandoned in some adverse affect of these disgusting little creatures with whom she now lived. She had quickly learned to despise the creatures; three of whom now resided in her cell and the other five that she discovered in her rush to leave Hovett's compound.

Leia was becoming increasingly annoyed with this whole predicament.

* * *

**"Han."**

"What?"

"What are you going to do? Barge into Imperial-held space and shoot your way through?"

"Well, yeah. Isn't that how we always do this stuff?"

A beat.

"Yeah, kinda. But this isn't some rebel cell ready to be shipped off – "

"That worked out just fine, Luke – "

"– or a datacard with Imperial intelligence on it – "

"That got back to us _eventually_ – "

"– or me on Dantooine when my X-wing got fried – "

"_That_ was not my problem."

"– it's Leia. Possibly in captivity. Probably unable to contact us. Most likely upset and ready to behead anyone the minute they step into wherever she is."

"Nah. She's learned her lesson 'bout that one, kid."

Luke sighed exasperatedly. "Look, we don't have a lot of room here to make mistakes. Mon Mothma can't sanction this rescue and we're heading in blind to an Imperial-held world who's military leader is probably expecting some kind of New Republic intrusion unit to come barging in the front door."

"So, where's the problem?"

Luke closed his eyes and breathed deeply.

When his eyes opened again, Han was grinning at him under a set of glittering eyes. Luke grabbed the nearest object, a NR ration bar, deadly in more ways than one, and threw it at him. The bar smacked off Han's head, but the former smuggler was unfazed.

"Hard head," Luke noted.

"So Leia tells me."

"Yeah, well, she's one to talk. So."

Han visibly shifted into general mode. "We know Anselm is blockaded, we know that Hovett is _on_ Anselm, we know that you can't hear Leia in your head. That about it?"

"The moon."

"Well, yeah, the moon. I forgot about the moon."

Chewie grumbled a question.

"Sorry, pal. Before we left Coruscant, we went and searched old Imperial records for Anselm or Hovett. Hovett's hasn't been updated since he was some idiot rich-kid lieutenant about fifteen years ago. Anselm's record has more; there are old population censuses and some information about a moon."

"The census probably can't help us, but the moon . . . "

Han paused. "It'll work."

Luke eyed Han warily. "Yeah, but how much damage will we sustain in the process?"

* * *

**"Stop it."**

"What?"

"You're looking all nervous." Han's voice drifted up from behind Luke, who was walking slightly ahead of him.

"_I_ am never nervous."

"Bull. You're jumpy. Reminds me of farmboy who idolized and worshipped me, followed me everywhere, wanted to _be_ me. One of the many, that is."

Luke narrowed both his eyes under the greasy mechanic's cap he wore. "Do you ever _think_ before you talk?"

"Nope. Wastes time."

Luke shook his head in silent mirth and glanced around them. Han and he were strolling down the spaceport on Anselm's moon, picking up a flight down to the planet proper, hoping to pass off as Anselm ship mechanics finished with repairs at the spaceport and returning to Anselm itself. They had passed preliminary security with relative ease, flashing ID's Han had scrounged up somewhere in the _Falcon_. The _Falcon _itself was stashed inside an old spacestation rotating around Anselm, Chewie watching the helm and the environment around him for any suspicious movements.

Secondary security was a bit more difficult, requiring a few covert mind tricks and some less-than-delicate diplomacy from Han. Nevertheless, they cleared the spaceport and made it through to a rickety transport that looked it was being skeleton-crewed and had been around since the Clone Wars.

Luke smirked. "You should have no problem with this thing. It's practically an exact copy of – "

"Nice. You know, your jokes don't get any better the more time I spend with you."

"Sure they do. You just need some Whyren's Reserve to fully appreciate them."

Han chuckled. "Kid, I need Whyren's Reserve on a daily basis anyway to deal with you, your sister, and my life in general."

* * *

**_Alright, I need advice. I really want to post this thing over at the JC boards, but they've been having a bit of a Leia-cide epidemic lately. I'm afraid if I post this right now, I'll lose readers that are disgusted if it seems I have Leia dead and buried. Is this a concern? Whadd'ya think? _**

**_Thanks again, all! I would really appreciate your advice!_**


	8. The Escape, and the Capture

**Hello, all! **

**SailorLeia: **Thanks! I always thought that the EU neglected that side of the family relationship, so I'm glad you enjoyed it!

**Mutley: **Welcome! And I agree, any story that deals with H/L is better than the others. Thanks for reviewing!

**LVB: **Ha! Only one week! Welcome, and thanks for reviewing!

**Sweetdeath04: **Thinking always wastes time. (At least in Han's case . . .) Thanks, Sweetdeath04!

**Starrunner: **Thanks! And I waste too much time thinking – that was my wishful self injected into Han!

**GreatOne: **Ah, well I'd like to post it on Princess/Scoundrel, eventually. I'm taking baby steps! (I wonder if you'll still be reading after that awful challenge I gave you . . .) He he! Thanks, oh mighty Great One!

**dm1: **Our boys? Getting hurt trying to save Leia? Never! Thanks, dm1!

**PrincessDaisy2: **I'm trying incredibly hard to keep everyone in character, and I'm glad you've commented on it! And keep on laughing maniacally, as long as you let Leia seriously injure Prince Fabio eventually! Thanks for reviewing!

_**Thanks for all your wonderful comments and suggestions about the JC boards! They really did help me. Oh, and I found this very amusing: I took the word 'Angst' off of the summary of this story in chapter 7, and many, many more people reviewed. Fascinating, eh? Apparently people don't like angst very much . . . LOL. Thanks, everyone!**_

_**Now, off to our heroes as they . . . well, you know. **_

* * *

**Han glanced around** the bustling spaceport, baffled beyond words. _This is a besieged planet. Where do they think they're going_? He moved his eyes around the crowds, some sitting talking quietly, but most up and ambling toward an already large group poised in the middle of the terminal. Sharing a brief glimpse with Luke to let him know his intentions, Han reassured himself by brushing his forearm hold-out blaster with his other hand and sauntered toward the mob, acting nonchalant.

The group seemed to be congregated around a dirty, old, and worthless monitor displaying a woman in strange garb giving the local news. A second window showed a speeder chased by several authorities, and the crowd around the monitor was ooh-ing and ah-ing the chase. Han off-handedly complemented the driver's skills to himself, then decided that the mob was relatively harmless. Assuring himself that no authorities were watching him, he began walking through terminal to the eastern platform, where Luke hurriedly caught up, and the two began looking for a starting point for their search.

* * *

**Leia was ready** to jump the one guard she expected to encounter in the hallway to her cell, was prepared to face the three or four she anticipated in the back room of her impoundment, and could handle the two sitting in the speeder she fully intended to hotwire to escape.

That was certainly not what she encountered.

_Okay, so this wasn't my brightest moment._

Leia had been significantly hampered by her barriers to the Force, fully feeling the affects of those stupid monsters in her cell. She'd not been allowed any sharp objects during her one-day imprisonment, had in fact been eating ration bars that necessitated no cutlery, and she couldn't exactly overpower the large men that traded off guard duty.

But they were idiotic and suicidal to underestimate her.

Using an old pipe she'd broken off from a corner of her cell, she attacked the guard that come in to take her to Hovett for some sort of conference, and had _run_ until she had _run into_ his partner waiting impatiently at the end of the prison quarter. Armed only with her bent and slightly deformed pipe, and still unable to properly fight without the Force, she had fought with only her bare strength. And in the end, it hadn't really worked.

_I'm an idiot._

She's been wrestled against the wall with her back to the guard and harassed as only some simpleton minion could, when she'd conveniently found his blaster with her foot and flipped it out of its holster. Leia side-kicked the guard in the stomach, raced to the fallen blaster, and shot him in the shoulder.

Continuing through the escape plan, which seemed only to be presenting itself to her at a spur-of-the-moment notification, she had run until she found the back door she had anticipated.

With six guards grouped in front of it.

She's pushed into the door at a flying pace, almost ready to beat their barricade by pure force of speed, when one had grabbed her hair and stopped her in her tracks. He was easily overtaken with one shot of the blaster, as were the next two. The other three had, by that time, gathered their senses and trained their blasters at her. One she fell by a snap kick to the stomach, winding him enough to focus her energy on the last two. She had instinctually fallen to the ground, and bringing her leg beneath both of them forced them to their backs. She kicked one in the face, and used her momentum to somersault backwards and into a crouch position, firing off a slightly misaimed shot at the last guard. He fell, his face a disturbing mass of brain and tissue, and Leia had time enough to throw herself out the door.

The speeder bike she'd hoped would present itself seemed to be missing. She searched for one through the nearby alleyway, and only succeeded when she had run straight into the main speederlane of whatever city she was in. She had jumped into a small, one-person public speeder and forced the driver from his seat. Muttering curses of which she was sure Han would take pride, she'd called up the nav computer and found herself eighteen kilometers from the nearest spaceport. And then she pushed the speeder as fast as she could.

Somewhere in there the Force had returned.

And somewhere in there she had picked up three speeders in pursuit.

And between the stress of piloting a maniac course through the congested lanes of traffic and hiding her face from the news recorders that seemed to infest her general location, she felt a light turn on in the back of her mind. She resolutely ignored it and concentrated on her next mode of attack and escape.

* * *

**"So, where to?"** Han's voice carried over the bustle of the speeder traffic. They were stuck without a clear plan of attack. In full actuality, they had no idea where they were going and what they would do when they got there. Han did a mental inventory: him and Luke, who was a Jedi, with Han's hold-out blaster (he was deprived of the DL-44 at primary security) and Luke's lightsaber. _Those aren't good odds. _

He frowned.

_Since when did I care about the odds?_

Han glared at his companion, and froze. Luke had a faraway look on his face and his eyes were wide.

"Hey. What's wrong?"

Luke turned his startled eyes on Han and whispered, "I can _feel _her."

* * *

**Leia was frustrated** with the entire turn of events. She had picked up another two speeders in pursuit, and she was nearing the eastern platform without the slightest hint of a plan.

_I'm stuck. _She glanced back at the five speeders keeping her tail and noticed two of the Force-creatures in the open-air cockpit of one speeder. _Blast! When will something go right?_

Leia reconsidered after a brief period of high-speed contemplation. The pursuit had not opened fire on her yet, which she considered a small miracle. Although, as she further dissected this fact, she realized it probably had more to do with the civilians flying past.

Knowing she could at least lessen her pursuers if she took the first couple of shots, Leia turned a brief glance behind her and pulled the blaster's trigger. It was a lofty shot, missing by a fair margin, and Leia narrowed her eyes and concentrated. Using the Force, she split her consciousness in half, one piloting the speeder, the other forcing her blasts onto two of the following speeders.

Her shots were successful on both accounts. In the rear lenses on the dashboard, Leia saw one speeder crash into the side of a building and the other one plow down into a throng of people waiting on the side of the speederlane.

_Two down, three to go._

* * *

**Han had seen** it coming a split second before the speeders flew past. The chased speeder raced by, swerving and ducking to miss the obstacles in its way, and the pursuit followed.

Except two.

One disintegrated into a side of a building. And the other dropped down onto a small crowd of fascinated bystanders notten metersaway from where Luke and he stood. He had winced at the collision and had a vague sense of flying debris, before Luke gasped and turned toward the crash.

Han couldn't see what Luke found interesting at the small encaged pet that landed a few feet away from the crashed speeder, but it was suddenly becoming imperatively clear to Han that they run. _An official speeder crashes near us? We need to leave this party. Now._

Han grasped Luke's shoulder and to pull the kid back into an alley to hide when Luke turned to him. "I can't feel her anymore."

"You _what?_"

"I can't – "

A voice behind Han made him jump. "Master Skywalker, General Solo. How exquisite that you are here."

* * *

Ah, yes. Push the "Submit Review" button, you will. I have foreseen it . . .


	9. Twisted Rescue

**Happy Sunday, all!**

**I know that you were unable to review this last week, so I will forego your collective punishments, he he. **

**Two things:**

**1) PwtD is now up at the JC boards. Thanksfor all your opinions, they helped me decide! If you post over there, check it out, but please, _please_ don't spoil anything. Thanks!**

**2) I finished the epilogue to this story last Friday! Congrats to myself! Whoo-hoo!**

**Enough rambling. On to the chapter!**

* * *

**Leia breathed a** sigh of relief as the full implications of her situation settled into her mind. She found herself suddenly wearied and not a small bit exhausted from her captivity and escape. She checked the TIE's chronometer. _It's only been a day and a half. _She had expected two days or more. 

She shifted her mind through the necessary tasks to be accomplished. She needed to rest, certainly, but she could do that on the hyperspace jump back to Coruscant. _Back to Han._ She did not need fuel for her stolen TIE, which was fortunate, and she thought she would survive without a meal, too.

Double-checking to see if she'd missed anything, Leia stretched out with the Force, most relieved to be able to do so. She felt a slight tremble of anticipation from the Force, but nothing as concrete as a full-fledged danger warning. Her hand grasping the hyperdrive lever, Leia searched for her brother's comforting presence, eager to see where exactly he was, contemplating a quick rendezvous before finishing the trip to Coruscant.

Her hand froze in mid glide, and she slumped into her seat as she discovered her inability to sense Luke. _How - ? _Leia's mind suddenly went into overdrive, hurriedly concocting possibilities, ridiculous and absurd, each one. _He's not – no! I would have felt that! There has to be some sort of explanation!_

Quickly loosening the hold of her initial shock, Leia searched for that latent glow that distinguished Han through the Force, the stable, steady presence that couldn't project the outward manifestation of the energy, but could command a strength of spirit unparalleled.

And nearly cried out in horror as she found she couldn't find him either.

_What is going on? Where are they? What are they doing? _Her mind screamed a thousand questions, and accusations to double her paranoia.

Mental musings began to dissipate as she realized that the obstacles to her perceptions of her two closest allies were in place on _their_ end. _What does that mean? _She knew they were alive. She knew she would have felt the death of either. So what could cause this strange bubble?

_A bubble? But that's like . . . _

A shot was fired on the TIE; a near miss, to be sure, but certainly too close for Leia's personal comfort. She checked the scanners, and saw nothing in the way of viable spacecraft around her. _Then, where - ?_

A second check, this time a visual from the plated viewport, brought her nose to nose with an old spacestation, limping on its orbit with its ancient age apparent to any experienced eye.

A second shot coursed by her, barely missing her port wing, but Leia was focusing instead on the source of the shot. _So, something wants me from in there._ She concentrated on the Force, stretching her mind out to encompass herself, the stars, everything, to see past the spacestation, to identify the shooter within it.

And almost screamed with delight.

A third shot, this time so near that Leia had to actually evade, forced her to think logically. _What did we decide . . . ? _Switching her subspace comm to an emergency frequency, she initiated a code of digits and Corellian mechanical ratios into her comm and transmitted the identification package to the station.

She soon turned the comm off when she could no longer stand the loud Wookiee bellows of joy emanating from her speakers.

* * *

Following a bruised rib from intense Wookiee enthusiasm and a cup of kaffe, Leia finally managed to inquire as to Han and Luke's whereabouts. 

Chewie, seemingly without inhibition, related the escape plan, which was, in essence, nonexistent, and concluded that this escape was as foolish as the Death Star attempt.

Leia, too intently concentrating on his information, didn't laugh at the joke. "If they are on Anselm proper and I can't feel them, they must be with Hovett." _And those blasted creatures._

Chewie growled a question.

"I'm not sure, but I know where the most likely location would be. I could get us there. I just need a way in and out."

Chewie whuffed in laughter and placed a hand on Leia's head.

"I'm not going to just say I have a plan when I don't."

Rumble.

"Maybe, but I'm not Han yet. Give me some more time, and I may start saying things like that."

Chewie bared his teeth, and Leia got the impression he was telling her that he would gladly give her that time.

* * *

"I am quite pleased that you decided to join Her Highness and I on Anselm, gentlemen." One cultured eyebrow rose. "I was afraid the New Republic would send a delegation . . . less worthy of my time." The eyebrow slide back down. "We have so few visitors around here, lately. This world appears almost barren in the social aspects of things. How dreadfully depressing, don't you think?" 

Han found himself speaking before he even registered Hovett's words. "Oh, yeah. Absolutely." _Wow, no swearing or insults. Leia would be proud. _"Can't imagine why no one comes around here for a social visit."

The younger man's face turned towards Han, eyes wide. "Surely that was not sarcasm, General?"

_Guess it wasn't as good as I thought._ "Nah, never."

A look of pure disgust rippled quickly over Hovett's stony face, then disappeared as quickly as it had come. "I understand, General Solo."

Hovett removed himself from his repulsorchair, touching his feet to the ground for the first time since Han and Luke had been brought here. General Albun Hovett was not an impressive figure; he reached perhaps to a meter and a half in height and was almost emaciated in his frame. He had round shoulders ending in stick-like arms, and hands that were, at the moment, residing in gloves. His eyes looked half-predatory; as if their owner couldn't decide whether he was in charge or not. Hovett's hair was a dark curly mess, what little hair he actually had on his head, and his face was angled, harsh, and dark.

Sidling up to the ground where Han and Luke sat energy-cuffed, Hovett squatted down and looked about ready to slap Han, when the door flew open and two guards rushed in.

"Sir, General Hovett, sir! Surveillance has located unusual energy deposits out near Bounstd Station. It is entirely possible that she – "

The first guard halted his verbal excitement abruptly at the look on Hovett's face. The miniature general walked straight up to his subordinate and took a deep breath.

"Do you have any idea what I'm _doing_ here, Captain Hemlit?" Hovett was emphatically gesturing at Luke and Han, who watched in amazement as Hovett shrilly, and animatedly, chastised the guard.

Han watched the performance with inner amusement. Up until this point, Hovett had appeared in control and aristocratic. _And now it looks like he really can't handle that authority. _

Dismissing the guards with little more than some useless orders and nasty street epithets even Han hadn't heard before, Hovett abruptly turned around towards his prisoners.

"I will show you to your quarters, General, Master Skywalker." A small, polite smile and then Hovett was holding the door for the two.

_The guy is certifiably nuts. Kinda like Madine on an authority kick._

"I would have hoped that you would have engaged in some sort of conversation, Master Skywalker." An almost genuinely polite smile graced Hovett's face as he led the entourage, including four guards, down a narrow hallway. Han took in the grimy walls, and his eyes widened at a blaster scorch mark at shoulder height. As he passed, he swiped a hand near the mark, noted a slight temperature difference between it and the surrounding walls. _A recent blaster shot; it's still warm._

"Perhaps I'm just sick of hearing Imperials gloat?" Luke was holding his own against Hovett's gentile mockery, Han observed. "Must be something they teach at the Academy."

Han chimed in for appearance's sake. "No, kid. The Academy only specializes in blind aiming and idiotic discipline."

Luke smirked as Hovett halted and turned towards Han, effectively ensuring Han realized his tenuous position. _Five to two._ _In strange surroundings. No Leia. _He grimaced.

"General, I would advise you to behave yourself." Hovett cocked his head to the right. "After all, I would sincerely regret harming the Princess on your behalf."

Han knew he was playing into Hovett's game, but he didn't care. "Leia?! Where is she?"

"Now, do you _really_ believe that I would just hand over that information? Come now, General. Surely you don't think that little of me?"

"You so much as look at her the wrong way and I will kill you myself in the ugliest way I can think of. Got it?"

"And I am so frightened by your ability to do so at the moment, Solo." Hovett leaned closer. "You can't escape. I guarantee it. Master Skywalker is having enough problems with my pets, and I am sure you can't do it on your own."

"Watch me," Han growled.

Hovett spun on his heel, and continued his trek through the prison complex, not speaking and apparently hoping to intimidate his captives by his mere presence.

_Right. Like that'll work._ Han's eyes automatically surveyed the hallway as he walked. Filing away both his anger at Hovett and his unease with the scorch mark on the wall, Han tried vainly to keep those thoughts filed as he observed any possible escape routes. _The wall is solid durasteel, the ground is stone. No windows. Nothing on the floor . . . wait._

_That's interesting._

Han caught a glimpse of metallic deformity on the ground, quickly passed as Hovett's pace increased. _Was that a pipe? What's it doing _here?

And that was when Han decided he had a really bad feeling about this.

The party continued through the hallway until they came to a single room at the end. Closing the door behind them, Han and Luke were told to "rest" and "get comfortable" in their cell and relax.

Luke seemed to agree to Hovett's suggestion. He slumped against a wall, and stared at the three creatures that seemed to litter this compound as they stared back at him. Han wasn't paying attention.

He knew where the pipe had come from.

And had a good idea about the blaster mark.

And was suddenly not so worried about Leia anymore.

* * *

Alright, let's try this review thing again. Press this little button, here, and . . . voila! Easy, simple, disposable!

KR


	10. Deja Vu

**SailorLeia: **Han and Luke _not_ in trouble is the frightening thing. Thanks!

**owphoenix:** I'll try!

**dm1: **Yeah, kinda reminds you of ANH, right? Thanks!

**GreatOne: **Nope. Of course not. Leia's the great mind out of the three! Thanks!

**Hewgleymom: **Nope! I still post regularly here. Although, in truth, we are very, _very_ close to the end . . . Welcome to PwtD! Enjoy!

**Starrunner: **Can I just say that it's awesome how I can always count on you and **GreaOne** to review and respond wherever I post? I love your support! Thank you!

**You all crack me up with your responses. Thanks very much! I really do appreciate every single one of them! **

**On a sadder note, this story is nearly finished. I know, I know - I'm depressed, too!**

**Don't worry, it doesn't happen today, but I'm just warning you!**

**Thank you!**

* * *

Leia, fully suited down in black and hair braided up at the base of her neck, fell exhaustedly down into the copilot's chair of the _Falcon_. She looked down her arm at the blast helmet in her left hand. _How do we wind up in these situations?_ The more renegade part of her mind sneered back at her question, and, in order to ignore that side of her consciousness, she turned her head to regard Chewie. He was setting up coordinates and supervising the _Falcon's _starting cycle – who knew what was likely to disintegrate on this wreck – and then focused on her and waited.

She inhaled deeply. "Okay. Here goes nothing."

Closing her eyes, Leia stretched out and forced herself to concentrate on the light, the ebb and flow of the Force, the all-encompassing power of the life forms in the galaxy. She faltered for a second, awed by the overwhelming grandeur of it all, and felt suddenly secure in her mission. She lost herself in the Force, allowed it to flow through her, over her, around her, until she could no longer distinguish where she ended and "it" began.

Then she connected with the spacestation, felt its mechanical innards as well as she knew the _Falcon_'s hold, and isolated what she needed. _The power core._ She looked deeper, seeking something specific. Immediately she found the core, discovered the thin strip of broken connection between the power feed and the initiating cap. Tapping the connection very lightly, Leia moved in into its proper alignment. _The connection's intact, but where's the power?_ Narrowing her search, she discovered a small crack in the connection, where a power leak had obviously begun. _Aha!_ Fusing a scrap of durasteel onto the connection, she secured the entire connection and felt a vibration shudder through the _Falcon._

She opened her eyes and enclenched her hands and sincerely hoped she had accomplished what she intended. Her supreme goal was to force the power core of the spacestation to _work_, as Chewie had assessed it was the fundamental issue at hand. If the core was fixed, the station would move on its own, creating an ideal distraction for the _Falcon_'s latest rescue mission.

_And with my luck, we'll just explode instead._

She hesitantly opened her eyes. "Chewie?"

Chewie's eyes were locked on the display panels on the board in front of him, eyes wide and mouth open. He turned toward Leia with a surprised look and softly whoofed.

She forced a trembling breath out, overexerted from the task. "What did you expect?" She shakily smiled. "Let's get them out of there, Chewie."

He growled his concurrence and exited the _Falcon _out of the station and into open space.

* * *

"Are you sure you're set, Chewie?" Leia screamed from the outer dock of the _Falcon._ "It sounds terrible out – " Her words were drowned out by the bellows of a very stressed and agitated Wookiee. Leia winced. They were running relatively free of interference on Anselm proper, just a few patrol craft that hadn't been ordered to intercept the spacestation. _Overall, pretty clean entrance, thanks to the spacestation._

That lack of opposition, however, did not lessen Chewie's anxiety. Leia knew he was more worried about their exit strategy, which was, in essence, to _leave_, and she couldn't quite put down her own fears on the subject.

Another loud and distressed growl came over the intercom, and quickly reigned in her thoughts and prepared the dock for release. "Right, Chewie. Departure ready at your signal."

Chewie roared, and Leia overrode the dock hatch security and opened it as the _Falcon_ hovered over the security compound in which she had been imprisoned before. Swallowing an irrational paranoia that suddenly settled in her stomach, Leia lowered the viser on her helmet, double checked her weapons, and jumped out of the _Falcon_.

It was an interesting experience, Leia thought, freefalling through atmosphere. It was not nearly as invigorating as zero-g maneuvering, but an exquisite terror pronounced in every muscle that failed to achieve its command. Somewhere between her clenched teeth and tightened fists, Leia fell into the Force, trusting it with her life, as she fell towards the prison complex roof. She slowed almost immediately, and, as she struggled to keep her eyes open, she landed heavily, but safely, into a quick roll.

_I can't believe I just did that. Han owes me big._

_Well, then again, maybe not._

Taking a second to ascertain that no bones were broken – _a small miracle_ – Leia quickly jumped back into her mission. Keeping her helmet on to disguise herself somewhat, she grabbed her lightsaber off her belt and ignited the blade. Standing up, she shoved the saber into the roof, circling with her lightsaber until a rather oval chunk of metal clunked onto the next level of the building. Saluting the cockpit of the _Falcon_, Leia herself jumped through and landed much more softly onto the top level of the complex.

_Okay, first life-endangering feat done. Only about a dozen more, and we're home free._

She sighed.

_That's what I get for being involved with these two particular men._

With that thought came a grin and a sprint to try to find her brother and her – _no time for that train of thought. Just find them._

* * *

Han was thoroughly frustrated with the turn of events. He was imprisoned in a room with Luke, who was preoccupied with those creatures in the corner, and no visible means of escape.

_They aren't even opening the door to talk to us. _Han assumed that was how Leia had escaped; attacking a guard with that pipe he'd seen on the floor. He ardently hoped that she had managed to get off-world and back to Coruscant. Knowing that she had at least attempted escape made Han feel infinitely better about her. _If she's fighting, she must be at least alive, and probably very angry._

He chuckled to himself at that thought. _Very, very angry._

"Hey, kid. When you gonna entertain your human cellmates around here?"

Luke glared laserbolts at Han, then turned back to the animals in the cages. Han remembered Luke mentioning something about a "bubble in the Force" before he had resumed his Jedi-cryptic act and focusing on the creatures. He supposed Luke was trying to figure out something related his inability to touch Leia with the Force, but he really didn't care to delve much deeper than that. And he hadn't been able to properly communicate his knowledge of Leia's attempted escape to Luke, either, without risking the chance that Hovett had some kind of bug in the room. _He obviously wants us to think that Leia's here. I'm sure I can find a way to exploit that._

Han's musings were interrupted by a sound by the door. He searched in vain for some kind of weapon, briefly annoyed that the pipe was no longer a possible resource, and gave up the search as he glanced in Luke's direction. Both men stood up, ready to do whatever necessary to get out of the complex.

The door swung open, and a rather petite black-clad figure hurried into the room, complete with helmet and military-issue boots. Han stopped. _It couldn't be – _

The human removed the helmet and threw it to the floor, and offered a dazzling smile to Han and a pointed look at Luke.

"I'm Leia Organa. I'm here to rescue you."

* * *

Hmm . . . so. Whadd'ya think?

KR


	11. Silent Proposals

**Owphoenix: **Thanks!

**Sweetdeath04: **Thank you! Glad you liked Leia's inner monologue-ing!

**CountryBandChick: **It's okay, I get easily confused myself! I once uploaded a document thinking it was the next chapter to be posted and it turned out it was three ahead . . . that would have been interesting if I had left it that way, ha-ha! Thanks for reading!

**GreatOne: **Rub it in? Leia? No-o-o-o-o way . . . lol! Thanks!

**StonedRose: **Thanks!

**dm1: **Thanks! Erm, here's a _brief_ explanation of the escape . . . hope it satisfies, ha-ha!

**Herhighness33: **No worries, I lurk a lot myself. Thanks for the comments! _They_ make_my_ day!

**SongoftheWind: **Insane little man is left to his own devices for the time being. He's free of charge, if anyone wants him! Thanks for reading!

**Starrunner: **Thanks! And _I _don't mind the awesomes!

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**Okay, guys. Here's the final chapter.**

**Thanks for being so wonderful with your comments and suggestions. They've helped me improve this story even while it was still in my brain!**

**It's been fun! Thanks so much!**

* * *

Han could not stop staring at Leia.

Since their frantic escape from Anselm, and, in fact, once he had seen her break into their cell, Han had been acknowledging a nagging at the back of his mind. And through the reckless jaunt through the city and Leia's quick call to Chewie, he had pushed it back into the recesses of his mind. When Chewie had come thundering through the speederlane in the _Falcon_, Han had thrown that thought as far back as he could. As he had manically piloted his ship past the half-assembled blockade and pulled the lightspeed lever, Han had forced himself to concentrate on his survival.

But now Han had time.

And Han was able. _So simple. A few steps . . . _

And now he was completely incapable of approaching her.

At the moment, she was sitting at the holochess table, talking quietly to Luke, completely oblivious to his presence. Giving him free reign to drink in the sight of her. And as much as he wanted to actually talk to her, he couldn't seem to get his feet to move or the words to call attention to himself. _It's like a dream._ He watched her as she talked, noting the way that her throat moved, her hands emphasizing her words of their own volition. Her hair was swept up in a single braid pinned up at the nape of her neck, and small locks had come undone during their escape from the prison.

_That reckless, stupid escape that she shouldn't've – _Han stopped himself. He wasn't perhaps the best person to criticize Leia and Chewie's plans. He himself had initiated stranger and more ludicrous escapes in his lifetime. But his rational mind was slowly losing the battle, as it seemed to do whenever Leia was involved. _She could have been hurt, captured. Killed. _Han shuddered. _Who does she think she is? How does she expect to survive things like that?_

Han turned away, too much in turmoil to look at her anymore. _She's always doing things like this! Always risking her neck for some stupid reason . . . _Hopeless causes, foundationless ideals, a false sense of responsibility to people she doesn't know. Will never know. _If I lose her again – _

He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the hatchway. _I can't do this. I can't deal with this. _Han sighed and lowered his head. _How did this happen? When did I become so wrapped up in this woman that I can't picture life without her?_

_When did I stop being Solo?_

Han opened his eyes and turned back towards the hatch in time to see Leia look away from Luke and notice him. He offered a weak smile and she suddenly was up and moving toward him. Han's arms slipped around his princess, drawing her in close. She sighed and returned the embrace, a relieved smile pressed against his chest.

Han didn't see Luke get up and leave. He couldn't understand why he was standing in the hatchway.

All he knew was that Leia was here, and this was where he wanted to be.

_Gods, Leia! Why? Why do you do this to us? _"Leia," he breathed.

She looked up at him, brown eyes to focus on green. _The way she looks at me . . . _She was silent a moment, appearing as if she was summing up enough courage to tell him something. _Courage – why can't she be just a little bit weaker? Less strong? Less independent? _She opened her mouth and then gave a small sigh of frustration, rolled her eyes, and tried again.

"Han, I am _so_ _sorry_. I never meant to put you through all that. If I could, I would have stopped it, prevented it, but I couldn't! It was out of my control! I'm sorry. I just – " She stopped. "The timing was supposed to work out. You were supposed to be at Coruscant, safe, _with me_. I was to tell you about it. All of it. You would have known - " She lowered her head, her lashes slightly glistening. _Is she crying? _"Han, I can't imagine. I don't know – "

Han couldn't take it anymore. _She's crying! Why in space is she _crying? "Sweetheart. Hey, calm down." He pulled her back into his arms, dropping his chin onto the top of her head as her shoulders slightly shook. "Look, I'm not gonna say it was real easy. And I can't say that I really understand. But – " _I love you, I need you, I can't be without you. Can't imagine one more day without you. _"It's okay. It's fine."

He shifted a real smile on his face as she looked up. "But, you ever, _ever_,do that to me again, and I _swear_ you'll never leave the _Falcon_ again. Do'ya hear me?"

She nodded, eyes brightening, as she settled down against his chest again. "That would be awful. Stuck in a junk pile like this with a noisy Wookiee and an arrogant pirate?" She sucked in a breath as if in horror. "I don't think I'd survive."

Chuckling, he broke the embrace and sat on the holochess table. "How do'ya think _we'd_ do? Me an' Chewie, waiting on some prissy princess with more hair than that noisy Wookiee?"

She sat next to him. "Ah, but you like the hair, nerfherder."

"When did I _ever_ say that?"

Leia leaned in close, their noses almost, but not quite, touching. "You didn't have to."

"Sweetheart, I – " Noticing the expectant look on her face, he very nearly complied with the unasked request.

And then the more cynical part of his brain chimed in.

"I'm hungry. Are you hungry?" He straightened up, very nearly laughing out loud at her disappointed expression. "Let's get something to eat, huh?"

She stood up. "You're going to make me work for this, aren't you?"

"Yep."

"And it's going to be worth all the groveling . . . "

"Of course."

" . . . and the sweet-talking . . . "

"You're a politician, that's all you do, anyway."

She appeared to consider that. "Even politicians don't deserve _that _kind of torture, Han."

"I dunno, Your Highnessness. Fey'lya could use it."

"You're whining about Fey'lya?" She linked her arm through Han's and steered him toward the galley. "But he's so honest, kind, and goodhearted – "

Han snorted. "And people accuse _me_ of bluffing."

"Yes. Yes, I do."

"I didn't say 'you.' I said 'people.'"

"Yes, but I'm the one who's complaining about you the most." Arriving in the galley, Leia jumped on the counter next to various sets of machinery, her feet dangling off the floor. "So, what're you making for your savior, huh, flyboy? Something to pay me back for dragging you out of your own mess?"

"I'm making something for _myself. _If the poor, helpless princess that I went to save wants something to eat, she's gonna have to shut up."

"You _didn't _save me."

Han reached into the refrigeration unit. "It's not my fault you got yourself outta there first. Don't complain about your brother and your – " He glanced at her and shut his mouth. _What the hell is wrong with me?_

"My what?"

_Your best friend, your lover, your protector, your . . . husband?_ Han shut his eyes and sighed. _No. Not yet. Someday, yes. But now - _He loved the idea of marrying Leia, of being with her everyday for the rest of his life in a way that was inarguably stable, permanent. Having some sort of formal recognition of their relationship. Some form of ownership. But – _I'm not ready_. It wouldn't be fair to her. _I just need time. _Han knew, _knew_, without a shadow of a doubt, that he wouldn't marry anyone _but_ Leia, that he was firmly committed to her in every sense of the word.

_But I'm just not ready._

"Hey." Leia slipped off the counter and walked over to loosely put her arms around his waist. "I'm not expecting a proposal here." She chuckled. "You look like you're about to jump out of the airlock."

"Sweetheart, I can't – I mean, I don't want to, uh, you know, um, until . . . and I _want_ to, but – "

Leia cut him off. "You don't have to do anything until you're ready. And – " she winked at him mischievously, "who says I want to give up my wild bachelorette days, hmm?"

_That_ floored him. "Wild bachelorette days? You go to meetings, train with Luke and see me. What's wild about that?"

"Oh, you haven't seen some of those meetings, Han." Stepping back from him, she smirked at him as she backed away. "And you. You aren't exactly safe. You are, in fact, a terrible influence."

He came forward to her, relieved that she had given him an escape corridor, and brought his mouth close to her ear. "Hmm. Terrible influence?"

She sighed. "Awful."

He laughed and pulled away to look into her eyes. "Then you're right. We shouldn't end your wild bachelorette days just yet."

"I completely agree – "

Han wouldn't, couldn't, let her finish, couldn't stand the anticipation or the wait any longer. Cutting her off, he brushed her lips with his own, barely a kiss, more a touch. He kept his eyes open as he did it again, watched as she closed her eyes – _beautiful, amazing eyes_ – and a third time, until he actually kissed her, feeling her arms slide around his neck and hands push up into his hair, pulling him even closer to her. _I could stay here forever._ Feeling Leia pressed up against him, his thoughts congealed together, becoming a mass of emotion and observations too intense for him to discern. _This is right, this is what I lost. _He broke off the kiss, moved his lips to her closed eyes, her temple and then to her hair._ I can't lose this. This is what I need, want, love._ He held her, nose and mouth against her hair, merely experiencing her scent, the way she nestled into his chest. _Never. Never out of my sight. What would I do? Who would I become? _He closed his eyes, felt her shift her head, her mouth maddeningly close to his ear, breath whispering softly, and solely, to him.

_"I love you."_

He held her tighter, knowing that any cheap, recycled response would be inappropriate. Private jokes and flowery, unoriginal, overused words wouldn't answer, _couldn't _answer, that declaration. He couldn't put it into words. Metaphoric phrases were useless to him. She knew – _I know you know_ – the extent of his ties, his devotion, to her, and nothing less than the perfect, faultless, expression of what they both knew would suffice.

_I would do anything, everything, to hear you say that forever. To be with you. To look at you, see you, wake up with you, everyday. Experience your life with you. To hear you laugh. Hold you as you cry, apologize when it's me that does it to you. To fight with you, ignore you, annoy you and be annoyed in turn. To show you what you are to me every second you're with me, every morning when you leave and every night when you come back. To grow old, useless, to everyone but you. And I will. I couldn't live if I didn't. Soon. Soon, I'll start this, give you what you secretly want. What you deserve. I will. Just give me some time, Sweetheart. You're everything I can't believe I have, everything I don't deserve, every fantasy I've ever had. Just give me time. _

So he held her – _my princess, my life_ – and explained to her everything she was to him, would be for the rest of his life, without saying a single word. Because she already knew.

The End!

* * *

PS: I realize that you may feel deprived of the actual escape, and I understand! But this story was, for all intents and purposes, about characterization and the relationships between our three beloved heroes. The action would have slowed down what I considered the true flow of the story, so I edited it out. Plus, I don't like writing action, lol!

PPS: I _also_ know that certain readers, coughGreatOnecough (I'm kidding, oh illustrious fellow Leia-cide-er . . .), wanted a proposal/wedding scene, and I officially get the bad author award for not giving in. (I _wrote_ the proposal scene late one night, kept it, and chewed on it for awhile. Then I considered a bit more of a risqué turn at the end, and even asked my roommate about it, but genuinely felt that _this_ is the way the characters would have responded.) I know, I know – it's kinda a letdown. But I added in the much loved mush at the end, so I can forestall my own hanging for awhile, eh?

**Again, thank you! Press the review button one more time, if you please . . . **

**KR**


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